


Make Sure

by moon_lines



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Biting, F/F, Femslash, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Polyamory, RPF, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 21:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21327100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_lines/pseuds/moon_lines
Summary: They're supposed to be on vacation, but Laura won't leave work alone. Marisha has ways of distracting her.
Relationships: Laura Bailey/Marisha Ray, PolyRole (Background)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Make Sure

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Vae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vae/) for the awesome beta!

“Laura Bailey.” Marisha leans against the doorframe of the office, one thumb hooked through her belt loop.

Laura jumps and snaps the lid of her laptop shut, but not before Marisha’s seen a half-written email about merch on the screen.

“Everyone’s gone home,” Marisha tells her. “We’re all meant to be having a break, remember?”

“Hey, you’re still here too.” Laura wrinkles her nose, guilt warring with indignation on her face. “Travis knows I’m just gonna be a little bit, I had some stuff to finish up.”

Marisha raises an eyebrow. “You’re never going to ‘finish up’, though, any more than I am.” She drops the stern voice, just for a moment, and wipes her hand across her face. “There’s always more to do, but it’ll wait until we get back, you know? Or at least, that’s what Matt tells me. Like he can talk.”

Laura grins at that. “He’s more tired than the rest of us put together, huh? How are you going to make sure he doesn’t just work right through the vacation?”

“I have my ways.”

Now it’s Laura’s turn to waggle her eyebrows at Marisha. “I just bet you do.”

“Hey, I’m pretty sure we were talking about you, missy,” Marisha bites back a laugh, rearranging her face back into something resembling severity. “How do I know you’re not just going to get straight back to work the minute I walk out of here?”

It’s a challenge, and she knows Laura knows it. There’s a brief moment where Laura looks at her laptop, but then she meets Marisha’s gaze full on, with a new light flashing in her eyes.

“You don’t,” Laura says, her tone arch. She leans back in her chair and stretches, casually, so that her shirt rides up and shows a strip of bare skin above her jeans.

Marisha takes her cue. She leaves the doorway, walking across the room with a purposeful sway to her hips. Slowly, deliberately, she bends down and places one hand on each arm of Laura’s chair, and leans in close. Laura’s eyes don’t leave hers for a second.

“You’re right,” Marisha says, dropping her voice down to the register she usually saves for Beau. “I don’t know.” She watches Laura’s face for a moment, notes the way her eyes widen, her breath hitches just a little. “Is it important enough that you need to do it right now?”

Laura won’t say it out loud, but she shakes her head.

“I guess I’ll just have to make sure you don’t, then.” Marisha closes the gap between them and kisses Laura, almost lazily, just a gentle press of her lips, a flicker of tongue.

“Come with me,” she murmurs, close to Laura’s ear.

“I have work to do.”

Marisha can hear the smirk in Laura’s voice. She won’t let that stand. “No,” she says, firm and clear. “You’ll come with me.”

She stands upright and takes Laura’s arm with a sharp tug, and then Laura’s on her feet, right there in the circle of Marisha’s embrace. Marisha wants nothing more in the world right then than to kiss her, but she resists. Not yet.

Instead, she takes Laura by the hand and leads her through the dimly lit, empty studio, surprised when Laura follows almost meekly, offering no further complaint.

When they reach the Talks couch, Marisha can’t help herself - she pulls Laura in and allows herself one lingering kiss. Then she sits down, with Laura standing in front of her.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she tells her.

Laura shrugs her flannel shirt off her shoulders and lets it drop to the floor, raising an eyebrow at Marisha. “Better?”

“No,” Marisha says again, drawing the word out this time. “No, I think I’d prefer no clothes. _Now_, Laura.”

Laura draws in a breath so deep that Marisha can see the rise and fall of her chest under her t-shirt. She pouts in that way of hers that has Marisha wanting to bite her bottom lip, but she doesn’t say anything else, instead unbuttoning her jeans.

Marisha watches Laura strip, first jeans then t-shirt. She does it carelessly, like she’s alone in the room, like Marisha’s gaze burning into her means nothing at all. But then she’s finally down to her underwear, comfortable cotton for a day at work, and her composure slips just a bit. She does a little spin, grinning over her shoulder at Marisha as she does, before unhooking her bra with a flourish and flinging it onto the chair nearby. A bubble of laughter threatens to escape Marisha, but she holds on to it, though she’s sure it shows on her face more than she’d have liked.

Laura’s panties follow the bra and then she’s standing there totally naked, and ridiculously, stunningly beautiful as ever. For a long moment, Marisha lets herself stare.

Laura’s smiling at her, knowing. “What do you want, beebee?” she says, all sweetness and light. “Do you want me?”

Marisha has never known how to explain to Laura how much she wants her. How she could just watch Laura, endlessly. The way she moves, the way she speaks, the way her mind works, how totally brilliant she is. The way she’ll come out with something delightfully filthy on-stream and Marisha will laugh along with everyone else but also try not to fidget in her seat with how badly she wants to touch Laura. To touch herself.

She shifts in place now, and pats the seat next to her. “Here,” she says, and it comes out throaty and rough.

Laura sits down, and Marisha thinks about the coarse fibre of the couch under her bare ass. She cups Laura’s cheek with one hand, then trails her fingers down Laura’s neck, over her collarbone, down the side of her breast and waist, all the way to her hip. Laura watches her, her head tilted slightly to one side, waiting for her next instruction. The knowledge of that makes Marisha shiver.

She wants, again, to kiss Laura but, again, she doesn’t.

Instead, Marisha slides off the couch, kneeling on the floor next to it. “Lie down,” is what she tells Laura next. “On your front. Good,” she adds when Laura complies immediately, wriggling a little at the unexpected texture of the fabric against the sensitive parts of herself. “Good girl.”

With Laura lying in front of her, face down on the cushions, Marisha runs her hands the full length of her, from her shoulder blades, down her spine, over her ass and down her thighs. Laura is so soft under her touch, and she gives a gratifying little quiver in response.

“You work too hard,” Marisha says, and she’s talking to Laura but she absolutely knows she might as well be talking to herself. “You’re meant to be on vacation, and you were working. I _told_ you to take a vacation. Did you listen to me, Laura?” She squeezes Laura’s hip, letting her fingertips dig hard into Laura’s skin.

Laura lets out a tiny sound, half-muffled by the cushions. It’s not good enough.

“I said, did you listen to me?” Marisha lifts her hand a little and brings it down on Laura’s ass - more a warning tap than anything else.

“No,” Laura says, half sullen. “I didn’t.”

That’s a start. Marisha nods, though there’s no one there to see it. She raises her hand a little higher this time, and the hit is a little harder, and Laura squeaks softly as it connects.

“Are you sorry?” Marisha asks her.

“No.” Laura’s reply is almost inaudible.

Marisha strikes her again. The sound of it is louder this time in the empty space all around them, and Laura’s reaction is louder too, with an eager tone to it.

“Laura.”

Laura mutters into the cushion. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good.” Marisha rubs her hand over the faint reddish mark that’s beginning to bloom on Laura’s ass. “And you won’t do it again.” It’s not a question this time. Marisha is telling her, and Laura will obey, so help her.

She wishes she had a paddle. Something leather that would feel good and solid in her hand, that might elicit new and interesting reactions from Laura. Maybe next time she can borrow that real nice one of Tal’s. Hell, maybe next time she can borrow _Tal_.

She’s briefly distracted, picturing Taliesin spanking Laura alongside her, each of them soothing the marks the other leaves… But then Laura twitches, a tiny impatient whine escaping her, and Marisha’s drawn back out of her own head.

She brings her hand down again, with a sharp, sweet _smack_. Once, twice, and then again and again. Each blow is just a touch harder than the one before, and she gives Laura just that bit less recovery time. The red mark darkens, and Laura begins to shift and squirm with the sting of each hit, making little sounds high in her throat that Marisha thinks might just be the end of her.

“One more, for luck?” Marisha asks, and Laura nods, frantically, almost sobbing her agreement.

The last impact is harder than any that came before it, and Laura hisses through her teeth, but then Marisha lays her hands, so very softly, on the place where she hit. She strokes with a featherlight touch, and Laura leans into it, humming a breathless sort of appreciation.

Marisha bends and kisses the marks she’s left, soothing the heat of them with her tongue. She parts Laura’s legs with her hand, as gentle as can be, and runs the tip of her finger between Laura’s labia, finding all the slick wetness there that she’d hoped for. Laura shivers and makes a tiny moaning noise, moving her hips to follow Marisha’s touch.

For now, Marisha gives her what she wants. She strokes Laura, first with long, even motions, then focusing in on Laura’s clit, rubbing back and forth in a rhythm she has long since learned that Laura loves. Laura has folded her arms under her head, and she buries her face in them, whimpering as Marisha brings her closer and closer to the edge.

Marisha can feel Laura tensing beneath her fingers, can see it in the lines of her body, her toes curling, the muscles of her legs taut. Nearly there. Almost… she keeps up her pace, just for a moment more, and then, right as she’s certain Laura’s about to come, she stops. Lifts her hand away.

Laura gives a long, discontented whine, and lifts her head to look round at Marisha. Her eyes are glazed and wide, mascara smudged all to hell, and the colour is high on her cheeks. She’s breathing as heavily as if she’d been running. Marisha grins, and kisses Laura’s ass once more, nipping at her just hard enough to hurt, perhaps to leave a nice couple of teeth marks for tomorrow.

Then she stands up, and points at the floor. “I want you on your knees,” she says. She hasn’t given Laura much time to gather herself, which she knows will make her more tractable.

Laura scrambles off the couch with barely a murmur of dissent, kneeling on the floor at Marisha’s feet. Marisha looks down at her while she takes off her own pants and underwear, enjoying Laura’s dark, frustrated eyes and disheveled hair. She makes such a pretty picture like this.

Marisha sits down on the couch, right where Laura was until a moment ago, feeling the warmth of it, the scratch of the cushions against her own skin. She leans back and lets her legs fall open, and doesn’t for a second miss how Laura bites her lip and draws in a sharp breath.

Marisha lays her hand on Laura’s head, coaxing her forward. “You said you had work to do, Laura.” She knows she sounds smug, and she leans into it. “I’m your Creative Director and I’m telling you to get to work.”

And to her absolute credit, Laura does so, immediately and willingly. She rests one hand on each of Marisha’s thighs and goes down on her with such enthusiasm that Marisha’s vision goes hazy around the edges.

Perhaps Laura thinks Marisha won’t notice, when one of her hands slips away from Marisha’s leg. Perhaps Laura thinks she can get away with sliding her fingers between her own legs and taking her own satisfaction that way, while her tongue works so beautifully at Marisha’s clit.

Marisha reaches out and grabs Laura’s wrist, putting her hand firmly back where it was. “No,” she says, and it comes out gasping as Laura sucks in just the right place. “You will...” She draws a shuddering breath. “You will _not_. Not until I have.”

It won’t be long, she knows. Laura redoubles her efforts, her mouth hot against Marisha, her lips and tongue, and the lightest graze of her teeth. Marisha finds herself cupping Laura’s head with one hand, clenching her fingers convulsively in Laura’s hair, her own head now thrown back.

“God, Laura, yeah, just there, just like that…” She knows she’ll think about this, this precise moment, every single Talks from here on out. She’ll sit here on this couch, and answer questions, and somehow keep a straight face while she thinks about Laura’s perfect tongue right _there_.

Marisha comes so hard she cries out, her hips jerking of their own accord as the full weight of it crashes through her, delicious aftershocks following as Laura keeps her mouth right where Marisha needs her to. Marisha closes her eyes, keeps her hand resting on Laura’s head, and for a moment she just concentrates on catching her breath.

Eventually, she gets herself together enough to look down at Laura, kneeling between her legs, the evidence of her achievement obvious around her mouth and chin. “Good girl,” Marisha tells her, and Laura smiles, her eyes wide and pleading.

It’s a plea Marisha will answer. “Stand up,” she continues, and Laura does, almost docile now. Marisha puts a hand on Laura’s hip and gives her a light nudge, turning her around for Marisha to look at the marks of her hands on Laura’s ass, a little faded already but still visible, alongside a bite mark that will definitely bruise. Marisha gives Laura’s ass a gentle squeeze, and Laura’s clearly still sore enough that she flinches, so Marisha follows that with a couple of fluttering kisses.

She turns Laura back to face her, and with gentle urging, positions her to stand with her legs just far enough apart to allow Marisha’s hand access. Laura is soaking wet, and she trembles when Marisha slides her fingers through it to brush against Laura’s clit again. Marisha leaves her other hand on Laura’s hip to steady her, and she strokes Laura in time with the desperate, needy little sounds she makes.

It barely takes a moment before Laura shudders and comes, pressing down into Marisha’s hand, her legs wobbling beneath her. Marisha watches her hold herself upright through sheer willpower, her whole body shaking, and thinks she has perhaps never looked more beautiful.

Finally, in the wake of her orgasm, Laura collapses onto the couch, her legs thrown over Marisha’s lap, and curls into her. Marisha wraps her arms around Laura, holding her close while her breathing evens out.

“You’re so good,” she whispers, her face hidden in Laura’s hair. “You did so good.”

They cuddle there for a while, quietly, Marisha stroking Laura’s back, Laura occasionally placing tiny kisses along Marisha’s jaw.

Eventually, Laura yawns mightily. “You know,” she says. “I think I’m pretty exhausted. Maybe I’ll go home. Get some sleep.”

Marisha grins at her, overcome with fondness. “Yeah, I’d better get going too.” She stretches, and catches Laura’s eye. “You and Travis want to come over tomorrow? Matt’ll make brunch, and then we’re around all day. If you guys are.”

Laura gives her a look that’s almost a leer, immediately catching Marisha’s meaning. “Sounds fabulous, darling.” She plants a quick kiss on Marisha’s nose before getting up and gathering her clothes.

Their vacation has begun.


End file.
